Colors Must Go On
by Iceblocks
Summary: <html><head></head>In which the Entities do not have a monopoly on superpowers.</html>
1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

Night already? Being in here is making me lose track of time.

I shift a little amongst the filth, resigned. Nobody is coming to help me, even the janitor didn't bother to make his rounds today.

This isn't fair! What did I do to deserve this? What the fuck is their problem?

Why does Emma hate me?

...

I'm gonna die in-What was that?

Footsteps. Someone is here!

I bang on the locker door as hard as I can. "Hello?! Is there anyone there?!"

The footsteps draw closer, hope blossoming in my chest as they stop in front of the locker. It is too dark to see anything clearly through the slits, but even without the screech of tearing metal the sight of my savior ripping the locker door open would be impossible to miss.

I tumble out moments afterwards, covered in gunk from used, rotting tampons and worse, but happy beyond description. A cape! I was rescued by a cape, a hero! I look up. My rescuer is dressed completely in black which makes it difficult to pick out any details in the dark, but I'm sure he has some kind of armor and a wide-brimmed hat on his head.

Dammit I'm crying in front of a hero. "T-thank you, I-…I- thank you!" I blubber as I force myself to my knees.

Huh, is he holding somethi- "**look out**!" Huh?

My hero kicks me in the chest, flipping me onto my back before he draws his hand back and stabs me in the gut with whatever he is holding.

* * *

><p>"Fuck!" Johan Johansen snarled as he chased his target through the dark alleys and backstreets of Brockton Bay. He had seen it! He was certain that he had seen it!<p>

And if that _thing_ was here, then…

He had to hurry!

A kid his age wearing ABB colors leapt out of the side street ahead of him, brandishing a knife. The gang brat's demeanor changed the instant he saw Johan's mask. "Hand over-ohshit cape!"

He was blinded by a flash of light and an invisible force twisted the knife out of his hand before Johan rammed a taser into his side. The kid's two friends, a girl and an even younger boy, were dumbstruck both by the revelation that they were facing a cape and how easily Johan had dealt with their compatriot.

Johan left them staring at their unconscious friend. He had more important things to do right now, and the distraction had almost made him lose sight of the target.

Skipping around the corner, and narrowly avoiding tripping over a trashcan, Johan caught the target breaking down the doors to Winslow High School.

"The hell?" That thing never entered buildings, not unless it was following whoever it was after inside, and Winslow should be empty at this hour. He rubbed the back of his neck. This whole thing was ringing every alarm bell in his head but there was just no time!

"C2!" He sent C2 ahead of him to tail the target, which was about the only thing that C2 would be able to do against it anyway. C2 quickly outpaced Johan even as the young man set off in a dead sprint towards the broken down doors of Winslow.

Right in time to see it preparing to stab its own target: A dirty, filth-covered girl who was looking up at it with adoring eyes.

"Look out!" He yelled in vain, his pistol not even out of its holster as the target stabbed the girl in the gut. Oh fuck a bucket of finished its job, the target turned towards Johan and started to walk back to the exit.

"Hey, asshole!" Johan passed the cheap revolver to his left hand and pointed it straight towards the target. His left leg took a half-step forward while his right leg rotated ninety degrees to point straight right. His head followed the movement of his right leg and his right hand pulling the brim of his fedora over the upper part of his mask. "Remember me?!"

He pulled the trigger and the revolver kicked in his hand, its bark heralding the streaking bullet.

Which was caught by C2 a few feet from the mouth of the barrel.

"Oh for- Really? _Really_?" Even if he used a gun? Johan glared at the target, snarling at it even as he moved out of its way. He had no desire to have C2 strangle or blind him again.

Besides, Johan thought as he watched something rise out of the girl, she needed him right now. He called 911.

"Looks like I'll be staying in costume for a while." He mumbled to himself and C2. He'd have to stay with the girl for a while to explain what the hell happened to her. It wasn't many who survived being stabbed by that thing, and those who did usually stayed unconscious for a while.

Which meant that he had to stick around and keep her Stand from hurting anyone. _Joy._

* * *

><p>I wake up in a hospital room.<p>

Looking around tells me that there is someone else in here too: A guy in a greyish green jacket, jeans, a full-face mask, and a fedora. He's currently sitting in a chair by my bed, resting his head on his arms on the nightstand, asleep.

I turn my head to the left and scream.

"Whuzat?!" The guy wakes up with a start and ends up falling out his chair, but I'm too busy screaming to pay it much mind. The upper half of a straightjacketed woman is sticking out of my stomach, her filth-encrusted attire covering every inch of her body as she soundlessly shoves her face into mine. How the fuck did I not see that thing when I woke up, and how long has it been there?!

The guy grabs me by the shoulder and forces me back down on the bed when I try to escape. "Listen! Hey, lis-!" Something makes the air around me ripple, and the guy is violently launched away from me as if he was hit by a car.

"Ugh…" He stands up as I start to hyperventilate. "Look, that thing is your friend. You 'triggered' last night, you're a cape."

I'm a cape? "I'm a cape?" I blink. The woman hasn't done anything but grow out of my stomach so I try to calm my breathing, slowing down and-

"Taylor what is-YOUSONUVABITCH!" Dad?

Dad, his face a mask of complete and utter rage, rushes the masked guy with his fist rearing back to strike. What's with him? Oh…

I realize how it must look to him: I'm lying here screaming while a masked guy Dad doesn't know is standing over me. No wonder he jumped to the obvious conclusion. The guy seems to realize it too, for he backs away from me the instant Dad started to rush him, his hands held placatingly in front of him. "Mr. I can assure you that this is-"

Dad doesn't listen of course, throwing a wild haymaker towards the guy when he gets close enough. Not that the guy seems all that worried, he's just standing there with his hands-

A ghostly arm, muscled but slim, comes out of the guy's shoulder and catches Dad's fist, stopping it cold. The arm looks like it is covered in some strange cloth made up of multicolored patches, though the colors themselves shift and flow hither and dither across the arm.

"Like I was saying:" The guy says as he forcibly brings Dad's arm down to his side. "This isn't what it looks like. You daughter has…'triggered', and was panicking at the sight of the projection created by her power." At Dad's confused expression he adds: "It is only visible to your daughter and myself. We are what most people refer to as…" A trace of disgust enters the guy's voice:

"Arrow Capes."

I'm an Arrow Cape? Like Star Platinum and Gold Experience? I am about to ask, but the entry of a man wearing what is obviously Tinker made armor cuts me off before I can begin. "Arrow Cape?" The newcomer asks gruffly. I spot the hilt of a halberd jutting over his shoulder, is this Armsmaster?

"That's right, Armsmaster." Replies the guy in the fedora, his voice dripping with venom. "An 'Arrow Cape'. And I am not relinquishing, so if that's what you're here for then you can just turn yourself around right now!" The multicolored arm and the body it is attached to emerge fully from the guy, revealing the full form of the Arrow Cape Projection. All Arrow Capes have them, but only other Arrow Capes can see them.

"I am only here to inform the girl of her options." Armsmaster responds with some heat. He then goes on to list the benefits of joining the Wards program after my time with 'C2'.

"C2?"

"That would be me." Says the guy with the fedora. "It stands for '**Century Color**', but I shortened it to C2. That kinda thing is normal amongst us"

C2 straightens up a little. "The 'time with me' that Armsmaster was talking about is part of the deal between Open Mic and the PRT: The gist of it is that I'll be your guide into the world of…'Arrow Capes' for the next couple of weeks. After that…" He shrugs. "Up to you. But right now…"

C2 turns towards Dad and Armsmaster. "Could you two please wait outside? I am about to unmask."

Armsmaster has to drag Dad out of the room, but eventually I am alone with C2. "I'm unmasking because secret identities aren't as useful among Stand Users as with other capes. Are you okay with us both unmasking?"

I'm masked? I touch my face. "Why am I masked? And why aren't they? The secret identities, I mean."

"I was the one who found you after you got arrowed, so I out a spare mask on you after I called the cops." C2 patiently explains. "And since we can see each other's stands, with some exceptions, just putting on a mask isn't as effecting as it otherwise would be. And before you ask: Stand User is the proper term for people like us. 'Arrow Cape' is a slur. The word 'Stand' refers to the projection."

Oh. "I-I'm fine with it." I blink. "You first."

He chuckles. "Of course." C2 smoothly reaches up and plucks his mask of his face. Wait, the Norwegian guy who transferred in to Winslow last year? "Johan Johansen, at your service. My Stand is named Century Color." The riot of color beside him bows as if expecting applause.

I take off my own mask, my mouth dry as I introduce myself. "My name is T-Taylor Hebert." I swallow and look at my 'Stand'. The straightjacketed woman hasn't done anything else since I noticed her. "My stand is called…called…" My eyes start watering as I just sit there and gape dumbly at C-Johan. Damn it, just…damn it.

"If the name doesn't come at once you should try to move it a little." I glance back at the woman through the years in my eyes. How the hell do I do that?

"Just will it to do so. Try to think of it as a limb, like an extra arm and not like a separate being."

I swallow and close my eyes in concentration. "Lean to the left." The woman without a minimum of fuss. Huh. I make it lean slowly from side to side, though it can't make it come all the way out. There also feels like there is some sort of switch in it, like…

I flick the switch, Johan yelps and hugs himself- "Taylor!"

"Y-yes?!" I squeak.

"Calm down." He holds up a pair of threadbare jackets and a pair of equally threadbare pants, and I notice that he is standing in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt. "Just…just fix 'em, kay?"

"Y-yes." God, I hope Dad doesn't enter right now. I flick the switch again, and the two jackets and the two pairs of pants smoothly flow together to form two full articles of clothing, which Johan proceeds to put back on. "Do you know what I just did?"

Johan shrugs. "No, but I think you power is similar to Sticky Fingers'. At first I thought that you were just halving the mass of my clothes and making separate articles with them, but the color and weight were different so you might have separated them by fabric." He turns back to me and smiles friendlily. "We'll have to experiment, which the best part of seeing a new Stand in action. Which reminds me: Do you know what its name is now?"

How was that supposed to- wait. I…I just- I just know it…

"Isolated." I utter breathlessly. "My Stand's name is **Isolated**."

* * *

><p>*

**JOJO's Bizarre Adventure Part 6 [BET]: Colors Must Go On.**

**AN**

**Stand Name: Century Color 'C2'  
>Master<strong>: Johan Johansen 'JoJo'.  
><strong>Stats<strong>  
>Destructive Power C<br>Speed B  
>Range A<br>Durability D  
>Precision A<br>Developmental Potential A

**Abilities:**

**Million Color**: Century Color can change the color of any person or object within a one kilometer range as long as it or Johan can see the target in question. The shade and brightness of these colors can be changed at will, and are not limited to one color per target.

**Long Range: **Century Color can move more than one hundred meters away from Johan before it starts to lose strength and speed.

Named after the J-pop song of the same name by **Rays Guns**.

*/

**Stand Name: Isolated  
>Master<strong>: Taylor Hebert.  
><strong>Stats<strong>  
>Destructive Power A<br>Speed E  
>Range D<br>Durability C  
>Precision B<br>Developmental Potential A

**Abilities:**

**Made Segregated: **Isolated can divide a target into separate parts. These parts are sorted by a property that the user decides on. People can survive the separation if Taylor maintains the separation effect and doesn't move more than ten meters away, the separate parts will act as if they were still connected. If she cancels the effect or moves out of range the target will most likely die from being neatly sliced into bits or any other gruesome fates awaiting them.

**Have no choice but be isolated:** Isolated can at any time form a short-lived field two centimeters from the user's skin that instantly annihilates anything between it and the user. Objects outside this field but within a two meter radius will be subjected to a powerful omnidirectional shockwave. This ability must be triggered by the user, but Isolated can launch weak shockwaves from itself if it thinks that Taylor is being threatened.

**Stationary:** Isolated is stuck within Taylor and cannot move away from her, though it can partially emerge from different parts of Taylor's body.

Named after the song of the same name by **Chiasm**.


	2. 1 Asylum Colors

**Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Part [BET]: Colors Must Go On.**

**Chapter 1. Asylum Colors.**

* * *

><p>Johan and Century Color leave after I learn Isolated's name, saying something about seeing me tomorrow. Dad comes in afterwards, alone because Armsmaster has already left.<p>

"Jesus, Kiddo, I…" He shakes his hands helplessly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Isolated tilts its head before rubbing its dirty cheek against mine. "I…it was just so…hard." I finish lamely. "With Emma-"

Dad looks up sharply. "Emma?"

Oh, right. He doesn't know. I tell him everything, about Emma, the bullying, all of it. He is absolutely berserk at the end of it, of course, but I manage to talk him down from going too far.

"Don't worry about it." He grinds out. "I have my ways."

_***/**_

Johan drops by the next day, dressed in his C2 costume. He takes off his mask and smiles at me, Century Color floating up to my belly to poke Insolated in the head. The colorful stand withdraws almost instantly as Isolated tries to headbutt its hand, which lightens the mood a little.

"Sorry about that." Johan tells me as his laughter dies down. "I wanted to see if your Stand had its own personality, they have those sometimes." He holds up his hands. "They're usually not as developed as people, but those who have personalities tend to be pretty distinctive with what little they have."

"Any questions in particular, or do you just want me to give you the canned spiel?" Johan asks as Century Color lazily circles the room.

"Why does every Arrow Cape have a projection?" Oh fuck. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

Greens and purples race along Century Color's skin, but Johan seems to take no offense. "Don't worry about it. The gist of it is that all Stands are different instances of the same phenomena, in this case the phenomenon is a manifestation with a power that only others with their own manifestations can see." He shrugs. "That is how I had it explained to me, at least."

His voice hardens a little. "As to why the term 'Arrow Cape' is so offensively inaccurate, the main point is that there are other ways to gain a stand than with one of those Arrows, and the fact that we aren't parahumanss."

Wait, what? "We're not? But we have powers."

"We predate Scion by at least several decades. The first major battle between Stand Users, the Stardust Crusade, just happened to take place after he showed up."

The Stardust Crusade. A month-long cape conflict that raged from Japan to Cairo between the Hero team the Stardust Crusaders and some unnamed villain team. It was later confirmed that every single member of the two teams were Arrow Capes. Star Platinum, the only Stardust Crusader still active, is more or less the Arrow Cape equivalent of a member of the Triumvirate.

"Since then the Arrows spread around the world, making new Stand Users left and right which rapidly bolstered our numbers, and with that thing walking around with one of them the public perception that we are capes made by special arrows stuck."

"You mean that thing that…" Dammit, it hurts to remember how the joy of being rescued from the locker turned to feelings of betrayal.

"That stabbed you? Yes. It used to be a Stand, its name is Silver Chariot Requiem."

"Hold it." I have to be imaging things. "Silver Chariot? As in the Stardust Crusader?" Heroes have become villains before, I know that, but it just seems like such a sudden shift.

"Its master was killed by another Stand User while using it to pick up one of the Arrows, which turned it into…that." Johan shudders and grabs Century Color's hand. "It has the power to turn your Stand against you, can switch people's bodies, and it carries that Arrow with it wherever it goes. We have no idea what it wants, it just goes around and makes new Stand Users since it was made ten years ago, during the Italian Arrow Conflict."

I pet Isolation on the head before hugging it close. "Stay away from the Arrows, got it. But…if they aren't the only way to get a Stand, then what are the other ways?"

"Aside from the Arrows the ways of getting a Stand isn't an exact science." Johan begins. "Most of the time you just wake up one day and discover that you have it, or gained them after going through something life-changing or made some sort of resolution or by putting their all into something. You can also be born to someone who has been stabbed with an Arrow, or be descended from one who has been stabbed." He releases Century Color and lets the Stand float over to the window. "Anything else?"

"Tons." Literally. There are just so many things I want to ask.

The folding chair Johan is sitting in creaks under his weight as he shifts in it and reaches into his bag. "Can we test your Stand while we talk? I brought some different things with me for you to practice on, mostly clothing."

"Um…" I begin lamely as I separate a ball of threads into two smaller balls. "Do I have to join Open Mic?" Open Mic is kinda like an international Protectorate for Ar-Stand Users.

"Nah, and they won't let you join them until your time with me is up anyway. You've only been a Stand User for less than a week." Johan hands the two balls over to Century Color, who weighs them in its hands before nodding at its master. "It's a common mistake to treat Open Mic like an organization every Stand User is a member of. Most of us are only associate members, so for us it is just an international forum and support network. Full members like the Passione gang, Star Platinum, Crazy Diamond, etcetera, are sent around the world to break up major conflicts between Stand Users, locate Arrows and similar artifacts, and stop Stand Users that qualify for being S-Class threats."

Johan narrows his eyes in concentration. "Like that **Fly Me To the Moon** guy in 2006, crazy bastard got his hand on an Arrow and tried to get something from space before he was taken down." He smiles, a touch of pride entering his voice. "My uncle was part of the team sent to stop him, y'know."

I have Isolated recombine the two balls and move on to the mess of sticks and metal wiring he pulls out next. "I don't think I've heard of that guy. Fly Me To the Moon, I mean."

He shrugs as I separate the mess into a pile of sticks that collapse the instant they are free of the wiring, which just sits there looking ugly without the sticks hiding some of the rust. "No surprise there. It was a Stand User only affair with no civilian casualties, of course few people would hear about it outside Open Mic members. I still think it was kinda arbitrary that the guy got a Kill Order, but then again, I don't really know what he was after."

Huh. "Next thing please."

We play around with my Stand's power for a while, learning a lot about how it works. As far as we can tell it marks a target and then created two 'boxes', each corresponding with a property of the target in question, and then it divides the target and places the pieces into these two boxes. Like, if I took a shirt made up of both synthetic and natural fabrics (with metal buttons, plastic decorations, etc.) and then divided along the property 'natural fabric' I would get one pile of natural fabric while the rest of the shirt would be in another. If that makes sense.

Johan starts packing up. "Time to go?"

"Yeah, got stuff to do tonight, and I might not be able to make it tomorrow."

Really? "What's going on?"

"Nothing all that serious." He says assuringly. "There are a couple other Stand Users here in town, and two of 'em, Burn My Dread and Drowning Pool, have been getting close to blows lately, and since I'm the Open Mic representative in Brockton Bay I have to go and tell them to knock it off."

He grins at me, the expression mirrored by Century Color, before he puts his mask back on and swings the bag onto his back. "Just focus on getting better, Isolated."

"Huh?"

"What? Oh yeah, that. Sorry. I forgot to tell you: We Stand Users use the name of our Stand as our cape names, like how Armsmaster called me Century Color or C2 yesterday."

Sadly, all things must end. Johan has to deal with the two Stand Users causing shit and might not be able to come for a couple of days. Saying out goodbyes got really awkward over that, not sure why. I mean, I can get me being awkward because I'm awkward Taylor and…stuff, but why would Johan feel bad about not being able to visit tomorrow?

At least I have something to look forward to when I go back to school. Been a while since last time.

* * *

><p><em>[Midnight the next day]<em>

Johan glared down at the two Stand users in front of him, having just interrupted their fight. "I believe I told you two to knock it the fuck off. You can settle your score on the stage, or somewhere with no people around, not in the middle of the city."

"Fuck off, brat." Snarled David Moreyes, master of the Stand **Drowning Pool**. He wouldn't have looked out of place in a Merchant safehouse, dressed in a cheap hoodie and a dirty pair of cheap knockoff jeans. What made him stand out was the buzzing swarm of insect-winged needles hovering around him like a shroud, each one muttering a different cussword. "I believe I told you to shove it up your ass."

"You did, you filth." Said the second man with some disdain. He was taller than Drowning pool, and looked like he was much better off in his neat shirt and clean longcoat. A huge knight in black armor with silver highlights hovered a few inches above the ground behind him, the night giving the Stand power beyond what it usually would possess. To face Ethan Holstein and his Stand **Burn My Dread** at night was a fool's gambit. "But I find myself agreeing. This is no concern for Open Mic."

Century Color manifested above Johan. "I'm gonna have to force the issue, don't I?" He sighed before he snapped his fingers.

To the masters of Drowning Pool and Burn My Dread it seemed like nothing happened until they looked at each other and discovered that they had been colored a light-devouring shade of utter black. "What is the meaning of this?" Demanded the master of Burn My Dread. "What are you-"

Johan cut him off "It's a cloudless night." He said crisply, and then everything turned white.

Five minutes and a phone call later the passed out bodies of David Moreyes and Ethan Holstein were loaded into a van. Their punishment would be light, just a forced session onstage together to work out their differences and find a solution.

Should he visit ES's place? Johan checked his watch. No, no he shouldn't. He had school tomorrow, though the follow up regarding the two doofuses would probably keep him from visiting Taylor.

Dammit.

* * *

><p>Dad wasn't happy with the way the lawsuit against the school ended: They'll pay the medical bill, but the terrible trio gets off with not even a slap on the wrist. I don't know why I expected anything else, the word of three popular girls against that of one plain loner. I dreaded every step towards Winslow, and-<p>

"Hey, Taylor!"

I look up from my intense study of the asphalt, spotting the shifting, clashing display of color that is Johan's Stand before I see the guy himself. Both master and Stand is waving at me by the school gates.

"Sorry I couldn't make it the last few days, trouble at my part time job. How have you been?"

"That's okay." I mumble. "And fine, thanks."

"Cool. You got time after school? We kinda need to finish up."

"Yeah." I answer, looking this way and that, waiting for the three of them to make their move. "I'll just need to leave a note at home first."

Feels nice to have someone on my side for once.

* * *

><p>School.<p>

Johan and I are in different classes, so we part ways after entering. I can't see Emma, Sophia, or Madison around, but that doesn't really mean anything. At least I've got eyes in the back of my head now.

While lying in the hospital bed I discovered something interesting: Isolated actually has eyes. The head part of the straightjacket cracks open in two places, revealing nothing but a pair of deep brown eyes. But that's not the best part.

_I can see through Isolated's eyes_!

It takes surprisingly little concentration to look in two directions at once with two heads, even when Isolated is sticking its head out from between my shoulders to watch for the terrible trio. That should give me some advance warning so I can get away without them thinking that I'm running. Just gotta stop Isolated from throwing any more shockwaves and I'll be golden.

Classes are the usual slog: The bored teachers drone on to the few people paying attention (like myself), the various gangers glare at each other, Madison prepares to blow a spitball at the back of my head, all waiting for the clock to finally reach the-

…Wait.

I react the first way that comes to mind, jerking backwards in time to only get a tiny, nearly unnoticeable trace of wetness on my cheek from the spitball, which hits the E88 ganger in the row in front of me instead. He starts at the tiny, wet impact, his surprise turning into rage as he locates the spitball. His head whips towards me and I force myself to look away from him and over at Madison, who is slowly putting the straw away. Through Isolated's eyes I see the E88 ganger snarl at her and make a throat slitting motion before disgustedly rubbing the spitball off his hand with the side of his desk. Madison gives a little 'eep' as she hurriedly stuffs the straw into her pencil case, paling in terror even as she glares at me.

Her expression is going to brighten my day for weeks. That she is fully aware of my elation sours it somewhat: She is bound to report to Emma, which will probably ensure that they make whatever they're planning so much worse.

I did learn that I should never not have Isolated watch my back. I should probably ask Johan about it too, he might know more about this.

The terrible trio doesn't pull anything today, which sets me even more on edge. What the fuck are they planning on doing to me? And when?

I find Johan waiting by the exit, still completely unmolested, and we head towards my house.

"Johan?" I ask when we come to a lightly populates street. "Is it normal to see things your Stand sees?"

He hmms. "It is more common in long range Stands like Century Color, much rarer in stands that cannot leave the user." Century Color emerges from Johan's back and waves at me. "You sayin' you can see through Isolated's eyes?"

He jerks suddenly. "Wait, does Isolated even _have_ eyes?"

I make Isolated stick its head out of my shoulder and have it crack its eyes open. "I found out earlier today."

"Neat." He glances left and right as we enter a street with a lot of people in it. "Try to act like nothing's going on."

Century Color floats up in front of him and says. "Too many people around, don't want 'em to catch anything."

The fuck? Isolated starts frantically wriggling as a response to my surprise.

"Hey, calm down." Century Color says in what sounds like Johan's voice. "I'm just talking through my Stand. You should be able to do it if your Stand has a mouth."

I look at Isolated. Isolated looks at me.

It is really just a fancy looking limb, I tell myself and focus. Just gotta make Isolated speak in my voice…

"Mmf."

Johan struggles not to laugh, and I wanna crawl into a hole and die.

* * *

><p>We're on our way to the place of this ES guy Johan mentioned when we meet them: An old lady and a wild-looking girl carrying a cardboard box filled with puppies walk around the corner in front of us, startling Johan.<p>

"Mrs. Canile?"

"Hm?" The old lady stops and turns to look at him, the dirty girl doing the same while glaring at us. "Oh! Johan" She walks closer with a smile, the girl with her reluctantly following.

"How have you been, dear?"

"Just fine ma'am." Johan really seems to like her. He then points towards me. "This is Taylor, we're headed to ES' place."

I'm not sure I like the look in Mrs. Canile's eye. "ES' place? Interesting." She looks thoughtfully at me for a second, but then her expression brightens. "But where are my manners?" The girl holding the boxful of adorable puppies looks really uncomfortable when Mrs. Canile draws our attention to her.

"This is Rachel. She has just started working for me at the shelter." Rachel doesn't really look all that comfortable, she must be shy.

"Hi, I'm Taylor." I say with Johan introducing himself right afterwards.

"Bit-…Rachel." She grumbles. Guess she isn't comfortable with strangers.

We talk for a while more, apparently Mrs. Canile has been running a dog shelter for almost forty years, but Johan eventually ends the conversation. "It's nice seeing you and all, but we kinda need to get going." He puts a hand on my shoulder, making Isolated shift a bit in irritation. "We need to be there soon or ES' gonna cancel the reservation."

Wait, reservation?

Mrs. Canile laughs so hard that her body shakes like a leaf, though Rachel just looks confused. Poor girl. "Just have fun you two. See you later."

I ask him about it after we've walked another block. "The reservation? I got ES to lend us his basement for practicing with your Stand, but if we don't show up on time he'll probably not let us in. He takes deals and such pretty seriously."

Huh. I…guess that's okay?

"I also wanted to get out of there before Mrs. Canile remembered that I stepped on one of her tiny dogs last year. I really do not enjoy being hit in the head with her solid oak cane, not one bit."

…That's odd. "Why are you so wary around her?" He just seems so…serious when dealing with that old lady.

Johan takes a deep breath before he answers. "Mrs. Canile is also known as **Who Let the Dogs Out**, one of the oldest Stand Users in America."

"Really, Johan?" I deadpan. He's just joking, right?

He doesn't answer.

I have to force myself not to gape. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious. She is also rumored to be a master martial artist and improvised weapon specialist, but I've never seen anything to suggest that those stories are true."

A though claws its way to the forefront of my mind. "I didn't see her Stand."

"That's because it is a tattoo. You would only see it if you stripped her naked." He slows down before continuing in a somewhat thoughtful tone. "Or she could just roll up her sleeve and then you'd both wait until it showed up there. It moves around her body, you see."

Okay, that's just odd. Isolated emerges from my gut, facing me as it bends up so that I can give it a quick hug before it withdraws back into my body.

Mrs. Canile's Stand is odd.

* * *

><p>ES' place turns out to be a club located on the edge of Downtown, a club named Never Never Land. A massive bouncer is standing outside the entrance, glaring at nothing as Johan and I approach. He doesn't challenge us as we pass him, letting us enter the club without incident.<p>

"Don't worry." Johan reassures me when I ask him. "I know the owner and they know that I do, so unless he tells 'em to not let me in we're colorful."

Colorful? He probably means 'golden', but…I watch as Century Color turns idly around in the air, its colors flowing, mixing, and contrasting all over its body. Johan must have a somewhat different outlook on colors.

…I won't be like that, will I? I won't be all weird with asylums or straightjackets will I?

My train of though is stalled when Johan leads me to a heavyset man in a cheap suit talking to the bartender. The club itself is almost empty with just a handful of people nursing light drinks at the counter or at a table.

"Hey, ES."

The heavyset man turns around to face us and checks his watch. "You're here early. Let's go into my office."

Caught in an unfamiliar area, I summon Isolated and keep the exit in mind. If it is a trap I can blast them all with a shockwave and then run for it.

ES' office is a dingy place with peeling wallpaper and an overly fancy looking bed (not sure I like the implications of that one), and a work desk with a pair of folding chairs in front of it.

"So, Century Color…" ES drones at Johan. Wait, this guy is a Stand User? "What have you told her about this place?"

"That it is your club. I have neglected to tell her about your Stand and…activities though."

ES smirks a little before he reaches down to his waist and takes a small leather pouch off his belt. He lays it on the table and opens it, revealing its contents: Some greenish white dust. "This…is my Stand: **Enter Sandman**. Anyone I throw this dust at falls asleep."

"Yourself included?"

ES and Johan stare silently at me and I realize what I just said. "I-I'm sorry, I-"

They both throw back their heads and laugh. It isn't the kind of laughter I'm used to, this isn't cruel, but…amazed? Happy?

Johan pats my shoulder. "Keep doing that kind of thinking, Taylor, you'll fit right in with us!"

Okay, then.

The basement is a pretty big, if bare place. Some crates and a pair of overburdened shelves lining one of the walls but otherwise empty.

"Alrighty, then." Johan takes a couple of things out of his bag. "Before we begin, do you have any questions about Stands?"

"There is something that has been bugging me," I tell him after thinking about it for a second. "What is _your_ power? I'm guessing that it has something to do with colors, but what does your Stand _do_?"

He blinks dumbly at me. "…I really forgot to tell you? Shit, I'm sorry." He puts one of those foldable wooden measuring sticks on top of a crate before he summons Century Color.

"This is my Stand: Century Color. Its power lets me control the colors of any object within one kilometer, allowing me to change the color, the number of colors, and the shade and brightness of those colors. Provided that one of us can see the object in question." Johan and Century Color strike a pose together as Johan finishes' his explanation.

"Anything else?" He asks as he unfolds the measuring stick.

"Well…" Other than that what I really want to know is. "So far there I've seen Century Color and Isolated, and then there is that black thing, a tattoo, and a bag of sand, can anything be a Stand?"

Johan shrugs. "Pretty much. You'd think that you've seen some weird things, but then you show up at any given Open Mic meeting and realize that you haven't seen anything yet. There are however some pretty defined categories of Stand."

"Like what?" Anything solid amongst this weirdness would be really welcome.

"Stands that are directly controlled by the User, those that aren't directly controlled but follow the User's orders, Stands that are bound to physical objects…" He goes on for a while as he places some small cardboard cutouts at even intervals away from me.

"So we have normal Stands?"

"Yup. Now," He takes hold of the measuring stick and pokes me in the stomach with the other end from a few meters away. "Whenever you're ready, try to use your shockwave thingy."

"Are you sure?" I say hesitantly. I don't want to hurt him by accident.

"I wasn't thrown that far when you did it to me reflexively." He explains, apparently unconcerned about any harm to himself.

"…Okay." I feel out my connection with Isolated, searching for the second switch. God I hope I don't-

The air ripples momentarily, the long measuring stick wobbling even as the cutouts are tossed away from me. Johan puts the measuring stick down on the ground before he slides his fingers along it until he comes to the toppled cutout furthest away from me.

He looks up to me with a smile. "Looks like it has a radius of around two meters, much stronger than the first time."

A two meter shockwave, huh. "That was on reflex. This time it was intentional."

"I figured." He picks up the stick again. "One more time?"

"Please. "

Johan puts the stick on top of a crate before helping me with setting the cutouts back upright. Then I walk back to the center of the room and wait until the stick is poking me before…wait.

"One sec." I tell him before I grab the poking end and examine it: The first number is a 2. "Come look at this."

"What the fuck…" Johan mutters when he sees it. "I just bought this thing yesterday."

Our eyes meet and find nothing but agreement: We have to do this again.

Half an hour and a significantly shortened measuring stick later, we find out what was happening: Whenever I use my shockwave power I annihilate anything that is within two centimeters of my skin, with the exception of whatever I'm wearing. The shockwave itself will only affect things within two meters of myself and Isolated.

With this…I can be a hero.

"I brought some things I could bring into the hospital." Johan explains as he opens a large duffel bag that was lying in a corner, pulling out a few handguns and a cage with a mouse in it. "If you're still up for some more experimenting, that is."

Using my powers on living things to see how they affect them, another thing I'm not sure I like.

Just one instance of animal cruelty won't make me not a hero, right?

* * *

><p>As Taylor and Johan were experimenting in ES' basement a young man clutching a bouquet of roses stepped out of a bus in Brockton Bay. He looked to be in his later teens, twenty at most, with light brown hair and deep green eyes.<p>

He was also idly singing a song in his native German while in the middle of ABB territory, which three younger teenagers with knives took exception to.

"You've got a lot of hair for a skinhead." The eldest of the lot taunted whilst brandishing a knife, his younger compatriots following suit with their own weapons.

The boy sighed resignedly, shrugging with his arms wide open before lashing out. The roses kept the knife arm of the eldest gang member at bay whilst the German boy's left hand grabbed his jaw.

"**Blumenkranz.**"

The ABB ganger went slack before his body twisted, his bones and flesh reshaping into a suit of organic looking armor and what was unmistakably a very large shotgun.

To the younger gang members the whole process had taken no more than a second, their shock of their second cape encounter rooting them in place.

The boy leant backwards, as if he wanted to exaggerate the act of looking down on the would be muggers before he cocked the shotgun. He was alone seconds afterwards.

After making sure they were gone he released the transformation, the forcibly reshaped gang member running off with tears streaking from his eyes the instant he regained control of his own body.

The German boy watched him go, sneering as he bent to retrieve his bouquet.

His ruined bouquet.

"Fuck." He snarled to himself as he stalked after the gangers. There was no trace of them when he exited the alley, but that was no concern: He had memorized their gang colors, so it was just a matter of finding them before he ripped them a-Florist!

A smile on his face, the boy walked over to the nice looking flower shop across the street.

Perhaps he'd just inform them that the last nazi in his family was his great-grandfather. After a light beating, of course.

_***/**_

When the German boy left the florist another boy about the same age, perhaps older, stood waiting for him. He was wearing white pants and a black jacket over a frilly white shirt. A necklace consisting of an empty monocle frame on a chain hung around his neck. He was flipping a coin.

The other boy greeted the first in a thick English(?) accent. "You should be happy you still got my daughter, or I'd never have found you!"

The German boy titled his head. "…Do-…do you mean the coin you gave me?" He held up a Euro coin, having fished it from his pocket while trying to translate whatever his companion had said into English. If you were of the right persuasion, one would notice the odd bone-clad gauntlet that covered the hand.

The other boy nodded contently before he in turn held up the coin he had been flipping. "Right, like this one." It was the same kind of coin as the one held by his associate, the letters on it declaring it to be a 1-Euro coin. He flipped it again, harder this time. The coin shot upwards, where it was caught by a golden pincer. A second pincer clack-clacked and the coin disappeared.

"Is the plan still the same?" Asked the English boy before he once again flipped that very same coin.

The German boy nodded. "It is." He began to walk down the street towards the hotel where a reservation was waiting for him, leading the English boy away from the florist. "Have you found anything out about the target?"

"He moves 'round a lot, but I have seen the guy. Always keeps his buddy out like he doesn't have a care in the world."

The German boy kept quiet for a minute to make sure he understood what his companion actually said.

"…I see." He glanced over at his compatriot. "You remember what to do when we find him, right?"

"Of course: I keep people away, an' you get him all to yourself. I'm not to interfere in your fancy little revenge thing." The English boy answered in a tone of mockery.

The German boy clenched his fists, his stride taking on a hint of menace as he sped up.

Revenge would be his! Century Color would pay!

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>

**Stand Name: Drowning Pool  
>Master<strong>: David Moreyes.  
><strong>Stats<strong>  
>Destructive Power D<br>Speed A  
>Range C<br>Durability D  
>Precision A<br>Developmental Potential C

**Abilities:**

**Let the Bodies Hit the Floor: **Drowning Pool's needles are covered in a toxin that can numb, paralyze, knock out, cripple, or kill any living target they hit, depending on dosage

*/

**Stand Name: Burn My Dread  
>Master<strong>: Ethan Holstein.  
><strong>Stats<strong>  
>Destructive Power C-A<br>Speed C-A  
>Range E-C<br>Durability B-A  
>Precision A<br>Developmental Potential B

**Abilities:**

**Nightly Dance of Bleeding Swords:** Whenever Burn My Dread strikes something with its sword a second reality is created were it strikes in a different manner. The user may then decide which strike that actually happened. This ability may only be used at night.

**Run 'till I See the Sunlight Again: **Burn My Dread is weakened during daytime.

*/

**Stand Name: Who Let the Dogs Out.  
>Master<strong>: Mrs. Canile.  
><strong>Stats<strong>  
>Destructive Power NA  
>Speed E<br>Range D  
>Durability A<br>Precision D  
>Developmental Potential B<p>

**Abilities:**

**Beast of Me:** Who Let the Dogs Out gives the User the ability to turn anyone within ten meters into random dogs. This effect lasts until the User cancels the effect or until two hours have passed.

*/

**Stand Name: Enter Sandman.  
>Master<strong>: Eric Sanderson.  
><strong>Stats<strong>  
>Destructive Power E<br>Speed N/A  
>Range E<br>Durability A  
>Precision E<br>Developmental Potential D

**Abilities:**

**Exit Light:** Those breathing in the dust created by Enter Sandman will fall asleep.

**Enter Night: **If the user breathes in the dust they will fall asleep as well, but will be able to wander from dream to dream. The user can control whatever dream he is in, but nothing that happens in the dream carries over into the dreaming world other than vague sensations.


End file.
